


A Hot Day

by Senora_Luna



Series: 30 Day OTP Smut One Shots [2]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: 1910s, 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Awkward Romance, Churches & Cathedrals, Engaged, F/M, Historical, Mexico, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Premarital Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: Engaged couples have to behave. They should obey the church's expectations.Imelda doesn't know if she has the patience, especially when it's so warm, today.





	A Hot Day

 

                The temperature was hot enough that the animals slept languidly. Horses resigned to their stables, dozing off against one another. Cows littered the fields like strange stones, impassive save their heavy breathing. Even the cats and dogs had retreated to the shade. Chores were being delegated to children, as most people of Santa Cecilia took to their shaded homes to avoid the sun of high noon, making the usually busy town feel abandoned like a time of the past revolution. Imelda, unlike her complaining younger brothers, didn’t mind.

                Finally she had a moment without her Mamá’s constant hawk-like gaze surveying from behind. Even better, her fiancé was with her. When the war ended, and the pair returned home, they’d known the luxurious, uncultivated, freedom they’d experienced on the road would be gone. Especially Imelda. She was to be a lady, a good Catholic girl. And a good Catholic girl did not simply spend evenings at single occupied home of her _male_ fiancé. Her Mamá, Gloriana, felt even more strongly-rather peeved in fact, upon learning the pairs’ amount of unsupervised time together-and seemed to have made it her mission that Héctor would not pay a visit without her eyes upon him. Except today.

Today it was hot, and Héctor had been kind enough to assist his soon to be married family with chores. True, Imelda could tell the lumbering way Oscar and Felipe were watching they had been put on observation duty. But, the adolescent boys were easily distracted with their chores, arguments, and most of all disgust from the way Héctor “drooled” over their sister-that it was nothing compared to Gloriana’s gaze.

So the engaged pair got to have one of their most private conversations in weeks while doing laundry on the front steps, Imelda scrubbing each garment while Héctor wrung out the clothing through the pressing machine.

“She’s insisting on white flowers for purity…I’m so sick of having to go up in front of the town and convince of that,” Imelda huffed wiping sweat off her forehead between garments. Despite the fact her forearms were soaked, it didn’t make her any cooler. “The more I think of it, that should be a matter between you, I, and Dios-not the whole town.”

“Well there’s some pretty options there-maybe frangipani or yucca…or…you have no idea what I mean.” He smirked at her lack of feminine traditional knowledge. Imelda rolled her eyes.

“The flowers aren’t even an important part of the ceremony. I don’t even care which church it’s in at this point-I simply want it settled!”

“I’m grateful we can have a ceremony in our home church to be honest.”

“You’re that moved we made it home that the church matters to you now?” Imelda was momentarily touched by his sensitivity, putting her bickering into perspective. She slowed her aggravated scrubbing to hear him out.

“I’m still shocked Padre Luis is willing to let me marry in his church…I guess he is more forgiving for those pranks like a proper holy man should be…” Imelda rolled her eyes resuming her scrubbing, “Maybe I was being more cautious than I needed trying to earn his forgiveness.” A half smirk on his lip. Imelda stopped washing pointing a commanding finger in his direction.

“Héctor-Jacinto-Rivera-Garcia” each name emphasized with a point, “if you release another rooster on the day of our wedding-,”

“Imelda! I would never!” Héctor half laughed and half cowered from her finger, watching with amusement how flustered she became at the prospect. Then his eyes darted over to where their guardians, the twins, were preoccupied with vainly trying to coax the sleeping family cow to its feet for milking.  Sure of their distraction he reclined as close as he could (while not touching) to her ear. “That’s for the evening between you and I.” Before she could stop herself, a blushing smile spread her face. Imelda lightheartedly shook her head, biting down on her lip as she avoided his longing gaze.

“Do not speak like that someone could hear us!” Imelda hissed under her breath, searching for an ability to be stern despite the ridiculous grin on her face.

“I said nothing vulgar, you have a smutty mind, I’m speaking of barn animals.” Héctor hummed churning the crank on the dryer with a light whistle despite how much it clearly exhausted him. Imelda gave him a low tsk, as he snickered again, doing his best to keep a neutral face should Gloriana or one of the twins appear.

“Half the things you say are a metaphor don’t play coy.” A brief moment of laughing together drew their gazes to meet. They hadn’t allowed them to in this way for a month. Prying eyes felt too exposing when this sort of look opened such a raw intimacy. The pair were close seated on the same step, arms nearly brushing, thighs nearly pressing, if they wanted to kiss it would take only the smallest distance. The warm air of the day felt like the pressure of a steaming pot inching them closer for some sort of relief from the weather, and the boiling point within them each-the lid threatening to blow off-

“Ay Imelda! Doesn’t look like you’re doing much scrubbing!” Felipe’s shout split through them from across the yard as though he’d thrown a pile of the cow’s dung. Imelda snapped her head in his direction, the mischievous boy looking at her with a disapproving scowl, while Oscar hopelessly continued to try and push the cow to its feet. 

“I need clean water!” She snarled back, stomping to her feet. “And help Oscar before the cow kicks him!” Felipe glanced back, Oscar had resorted to even yanking the animal’s tail but the cow refused to budge. Still it was enough to get the boys into a squabble amongst themselves over the most ‘efficient’ way to rouse a sleeping cow to its feet. “I’m going to the well.”

“Oh I can help-those buckets are heavy.” Another humming sing-song from Hèctor, mischief lingering on his face as he nearly jumped to his feet. Imelda didn’t take her usual offense to the prospect that she needed assistance with _anything._

“Little cabrons…” She muttered once they rounded the garden fence to the well on the side of the house.

“One more week, one more week…” Héctor reassured, reclining as close he could to her while maintaining their lack of physical contact. It frustrated her. She knew his mannerisms by now and this was a restrained Hèctor Rivera. If they were truly alone he would have put his hands upon her shoulder soothingly. If was a simple girlfriend like Liliana no one would have blinked an eye at the contact. The forced distance on account of their affection only made her sad and further annoyed.  

“It shouldn’t matter if it is a year-we _are adults!”_ Came a seething hiss from beneath her breath. As they reached the well she gripped down hard upon the stone lip inhaling heavily. The heat already had them sweating hard, the added frustration didn’t make it easier for anyone. Hèctor wiped his sticky brow and reclined his back to the edge of the well beside her. Even with his knees bent, he still towered her petite frame.

“What if I tell them the best way to move a cow is to stimulate underneath tail,” As he snickered Imelda gave him a chastising look that slowly softened into appreciation; he was attempting to lighten her tension.

“The last thing I need is one of them getting their eye kicked out-or covered in mierda I’ll have to wash…” Came a vengeful grumble, and without much thought she viciously ripped the cord for the bucket-sending it rushing forward with a loud splash that splattered the both of them.

“Ay Imelda!” Héctor wiped his face having received the majority of the blast and gave her a judgmental frown. “And here I was trying to cheer you up.” With a flick of his palm he returned a splash which splattered across the side of her face.

“Héctor! It was an accident!” And in her aggravation she purposefully scooped, then dumped the bucket sending a large volume of water down his neck and chest. Triumphantly she returned the bucket to the rope. “And that was on purpose you vengeful niño.” For a moment her fiancé merely did his signature pout-Héctor was rarely one to outburst like herself, but then the dangerous, excited, glint returned to his eye. Before she could flee Imelda found herself off the ground, slung in his arm within his elbow like she were a barrel of hay. The first time in his arms for nearly a month-the contact so sudden neither had a moment to pause and recall it was not allowed.

“Anddddd it’s time for you to take a bath.” His voice grunting with the strain of lifting her-but nearly buzzing with energy at the sensation of her in his arms again.

“No!” Imelda screeched, feeling a thrill creeping up inside of her as he threateningly hung her over the edge of the well. A hand was pressing across her stomach-the other her ribs-and each may as well have been the most tender kiss how it filled her with affection.

“Oh no…you’re…so heavy…if only…you didn’t have such a fine culo-,’

“Callate!” The word came out in a laughing shriek as he swung her back and forth with ease, bluffing to deposit her in the water, only to yank her back at the edge with a snicker. Finally in an attempt to regain control each had hold of the bucket, a chuckling tug of war-until something slipped, and Imelda found her front drenched from a full gallon.

“Ay-lo siento-I wasn’t trying to actually…,” Héctor began sheepishly while quickly setting her down and removing his hands like a child who had broken a rule, but still laughing with her. Then she laughed alone, because he was only staring. Imelda blinked away a few drops from her wet heavy lashes, and inhaled some of the hot summer air bringing in an awareness of her muted body. Chore days she didn’t wear corsets. It was too cumbersome to bend over a nest or pick a garden with a locked waist. Today she wore only her blouse, and the shift underneath it. One canvas, the other cotton, beige pieces for the hot weather. Easily, and almost completely transparent when wet.

With the slightest glance she saw what caught his breath, each nipple was perfectly outlined in fabric as though framed for a museum. The maroon brown color was like large stains pressing through the fabric. Both were risen in round plump temptation, as precious to his gaze as a pair of rare gems. Despite what she should have done-no part of her was interested in covering or turning away. Every second his starving eyes lingered, fed a carnal frustration curling in the depths of her stomach.

                The wet fabric surrounding the nerve riddled ends awakened the painfully distinct memory of his mouth on her. Her fingers sweeping through his hair, feeling the muscles down his neck and back flex and tense to the rousing taste of her. An uncomfortable tingling quiver began inside of her, screaming out he would give her relief by doing it again.

                “I…Lo siento,” Héctor finally managed in a soft distant whisper, sounding more remorseful about what he couldn’t do than what he had done. He shifted where he stood, just the sight of her was creating a discomfort in his trousers. Brushing her teeth across her lower lip, Imelda slowly shook her head as she thoughtlessly, trembling, reached for his hand.

                “Tocame…por favor…quick-,” She wasn’t even able to finish before an outcry of her name swiveled both their heads in alarm, and sent Imelda’s arms to her chest in modest censorship.

                “Imelda! You’re a mess!” Gloriana. Their laughter had been far too rambunctious and unrestrained. Standing upon the back porch, fan in hand, glaring down her daughter like she had emerged from an outhouse covered in sewage.

                “Mamá it’s just water, I-,”

                “Lo Siento Señora, I dropped the bucket.” Héctor rapidly intervened, seeking to prevent any further tension between his future mother-by-law and wife. Gloriana held up a languid palm, not even acknowledging he had spoken.

                “Where is your modesty…” She spoke lowly, the words cutting along her like a deceptive edge of parchment to leave a long burn. “Into the house. Rapido.” Imelda looked as though she were restraining an explosion within her, the way her jaw clenched-her firsts curled-and arms angrily suppressed her own apparently offensive breast into her chest.

                “ _Ma-má-,”_

“ **Ra-pi-do.”** She may as well have slapped the girl. Héctor took a small step forward, ready to intervene again before Imelda gave him the subtlest shake of her head. “Señor Rivera, please forgive my daughter’s lack of conduct. Especially when you came to assist her burden-she will finish on her own. Buenos Dias.”

                “Buenos Dias…” Héctor said softly, lingering as long as he could-but knowing very well Gloriana was rooted in position until she was assured he had departed. Miserably, he could spare no longer time looking after Imelda and made his defeated exit from the hacienda.

                A quiet anger rose within-he was supposed to be her fiancé-her partner-protect her, instead he had just left her to the wolves. Adding to his humiliation, he couldn’t ignore the painfully uncomfortable position left between his legs as he walked down the hill. The image of Imelda’s body seared to the front of his mind, like it had been put there with a branding iron. Each way he tried to dismiss it, only brought her quivering voice to his ears ‘tocame por favor’.

Why wasn’t he bolder! Why hadn’t he grabbed her hand and run into the field with her before anyone had seen them, like a romantic hero in a dime novel. Would she have come with him? Would she have slapped him? With a groan he pulled at his own hair smearing his sweat coated bangs from his forehead. This was what Ernesto meant-he was too timid. On the contrary maybe she was angry he’d stood there dumbfoundedly? What kind of man was he that he couldn’t do something when his own fiancé was soaked before him and pleading to be held? All because he feared a religion he wasn’t sure either believed anymore.

Yet, he’d already ‘soiled’ her. Spent numerous occasions rocking inside of her warm, welcoming, body-he had to push the thought away before it forced him to sit down. It wasn’t fair of him, after all she paid the consequences-her reputation-possibly her very soul suffered at their inability to keep clothing on. Did it still matter when the deed was already done? Did it matter at all because he was going to exchange vows with her-he wanted nothing more than to know she was bound to him all their lives. The bible explicitly spoke of women wedding men who defiled them-the thought turned his stomach killing any desire. He should have been stronger! They should have waited and this occasion would have never come before them. Imelda was right, artists had such a pretty way of painting things-making love, and what not-but now that they were home it was hard to cling to that poetry.

“Oy, Novio!” He’d been hearing that title since his marriage was announced. From the field surrounding the walk-way he looked over to a duo of shirtless men, Rogelio and Julien. Both lanky like himself, no where near as tall, and burst with rippling muscle that he lacked, brought on by field work. Today, having just left his fiancé so wanting, he felt aware of his lacking physical prowess in comparison. “Feel generous enough to do some community service?” Rogelio continued, wiping down his sweat coated front with his hat.

“I’ll split my pesos with you,” Julien much more mild mannered, or negotiable at least. “It’s too hot, I need a break.”

“I suppose I could save the pair of you cabrons from exhaustion!” Héctor sighed marching through the half towed field where each reclined exhaustedly on a till. Joining the group he took off his damp shirt, and felt another urge for Imelda. Another flash of her pointed wet nipples across his eyes when he blinked. If she were here they could run into the corn stalks, he’d show her his courage and strip them bare amongst the dirt. And then…and then. He had been the one restraining her a month ago they should not be intimate again until their wedding night. Was he a hypocrite now?

“Bless you,” Julien panted sinking down to sit upon a grand boulder they’d removed from the soil.

“He should bless us, not like his mariachi dances are this straining.” Rogelio complained.

“Want to trade pay rates then?” Héctor managed a bemused smirk lacking the patience for teasing today, but all his frustration went into the soil as he took over the till.

“I like to eat unlike you Fideo.”

“I eat plenty, I was simply blessed by our good lord to be the height of a man.” Héctor added pointedly, the same sly response he always had whenever other men wanted to poke fun at his trim frame.

“If only niñas valued that.” Rogelio bit back.

“He’s already engaged what’s he got to worry about.” Julien half slurred from the rock.

“He’s still got to consummate the marriage, maybe she’ll take a look at you outside the charro and annul the whole thing-!”

“How are things with Cynthia?” Héctor bit back, “Now did she forgive you for that messy bit with Marchella yet or…”

“Oh Callate.”

“They both hate him now.” Julien laughed.

“Julien!”

“It’s the truth!”

“Hmm sounds like you should focus on your chicas.” Héctor mused with a little hum. “Only person with a worse love life than yours is Ernesto but…he hates the prospect of marriage so…”

“I’ll be engaged soon enough!” Barked Rogelio. “And it won’t have to be to the one woman who wanted a husband to play the role of wife for her.” Héctor paused, he’d heard grunts from school boys in a similar fashion-but the accusation Imelda of wanting him because she felt he was weak stung deeper after the recent incident. There wasn’t a sly remark in him now, he grit the till hard-striking a rock and stumbling back from the ricochet. When he noticed the others staring (it was rare for Hector Rivera to be so quiet) he straightened up, huffing dismissively as he gathered the till once more.

“Just a rock.”

 

                “What exactly were you thinking standing out there for the world to see in such a state?” Gloriana began, closely trailing Imelda up the staircase as she went to fetch a towel.

                “Our backyard is not exposed to the world Mamá! Say what you mean, you’re upset my fiancé saw me in such a way!” Imelda spat, stomping on each wooden plank with an impact.

                “Well if you understand then you should be twice ashamed for your lack of modesty! Do you think he wants to marry some girl who behaves as though-,”

                “As what?” Imelda stopped suddenly turning on the steps to look back at her Mamá, her eyes burning. “A puta Mamá?” Before another word could escape her, as a firm slap collided across her face, silencing Imelda in a moment of shock.

“How _dare_ you use such language. If your Papà could hear-,”

“Well his option isn’t the one with weight anymore-it’s Hèctor’s! And _he_ does not think any less of me if my blouse is wet, or I completely rip it off!” Gloriana looked horrified by the statement and Imelda knew she had gone too far. It had nearly-if not entirely-revealed she was not going to wedding a virgin-and such a shame would ruin her-and her family in the town. A slow blush crept up her face along with fury. What did it matter-many girls only wore the white out of tradition as opposed to meaning, ask any of the young brides. Then again-that sort of thing was _never_ admitted outside trusted circles of young women, because even their stupid fiancés could have bocas too grande for their own wellbeing. “Lo siento Mamá…” Imelda surrendered, muttering through gritted teeth.

                “Upstairs!” Gloriana pointed a swift finger, herusually mellow contained voice shaking with anger. “Or you will have **_no_** blessing from me.” Imelda stood defeated on the staircase and slowly lowered her eyes. The shame and anger on her Mamá’s face resonated a cold place in her chest-and she couldn’t help but feel guilt pour in.

                Ascending the staircase the words of her Mamá, the congregation, the priest, all floated through her mind. “ _Only a slutish woman would open her legs unmarried.” “It’s the temptation of the devil to want such carnal actions. “For this is the will of God, that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor and not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God…”_ Doubt swirled in her chest with a tension coil, she had been so sure of herself when with him on the road. She had been so sure of herself when she visited his home a month ago and he restrained her urges. Alone, she now rubbed her swelling cheek hoping it wouldn’t bruise and mark her beneath the veil she was to wear soon. What good would contemplation do? She was no virgin, she could not change that-and she would be wed in a week to the man she so ‘defiled’ herself with. Pushing the thoughts away she fetched a towel.

As she stood by the linens closet patting herself down (the shirt was barely damp anymore-the hot day was drying so quickly) her mind returned to the thought of her fiancé’s spindly, long, fingers. Hands twice the size of her own that had covered her breasts so easily, making the strange tingling ache go away in the secure coating of his body. The want crept through her again, overshadowing the previous doubts and she reclined to the wall inhaling heavily. Humidity and heat were creeping in the house still making her body all the more uncomfortable, sticky, a mess.

Soberly, Imelda shook her head. Where was her restraint? It was only a week. Héctor had practiced more mortality than she-and yet he was the man! It was as though her Mamá could sense her devilish thoughts for as she rounded the corner, she nearly collided into her. Worst entirely-into the poncho she was holding.

“You still need to go to market-and since you are struggling with modesty this will assist you.” Imelda felt her face turn scarlet for another reason-it felt like a child’s swaddling cloth! Before she could even begin her readied argument, she caught sight of her Mamá’s still livid gaze-and forcefully bit her tongue. Defiant only with her eyes, Imelda snatched the wool garment, dreading just how hot it would be, and pulled it on over her blouse leaving her form triangular and hidden. It was better than losing her blessing all together. “Imelda, someday when you raise children of your own, you will understand how I am helping you.” It took everything in her not to make a bitter retort. If she ever had a daughter of her own-she would not shame her if she managed to find a man so caring-and loved him so dearly. And as for the sexual concerns-…well, if her daughter survived a civil war too, she wouldn’t hold any of it against her what she chose to do.

 

The walk was worse than she expected. Not only were her thoughts plagued with a vicious guilt now-but the heat coated her body in a layer of sweat beneath the layers of fabric. She longed to strip it off-with most of the adults asleep for the day there would be few gossipers to tattle. Still-the threat lingered of Gloriana revoking he right to marry, and she knew what that would mean to Héctor at least. That is, if he wasn’t fed up with her inability to be patient at this point.

How he’d looked at her when she stood before him, in earshot of her brothers, within range of being caught by Mamá-pleading to be touched. In a yelp of frustration she forcefully kicked some pebbles along the dirt path and lifted a few rocks chucking them ahead. What sort of ridiculous, lovesick, girl or sinful puta had she become begging for it like that-outside where her family could interrupt! How stupid! Chuck. How humiliating! Chuck. How degrading! Chuck, straight into a nearby tree with an echoing thud.

“You doing well up there Señorita?” Some boy, some brat bothering her looking for distraction from his work. Imelda abandoned picking up her stones and marched to the edge of the path to shout into the field.

“QUITE WELL! NOW BITE YOUR TONGUE CAB-!” It was that nervous boy Julien, leaping to his feet anxiously from the shout-seeming to hope beyond hope she would not come down to the fields and silence him herself. Then obnoxious Rogelio, giving her a look like she was insane-and- _oh._ Héctor was standing there rather stunned looking up at her, and he was…very half-dressed.

Sunlight was illuminating the sweat patches on his arms and chest, in hues of golden brown. That thick curling, bed of chest hair was damp with what she had to imagine was perspiration, especially how it shined with each rise of his chest to the light. That tall, long torso, with muscles she could feel better than see, from his deceptively strong skills as a dancer. Even worse how his pants sagged with the belt he’d thrown on, as if it were an invitation for her eyes to follow down the trail of hair until dip of hip bones which marked the forbidden place she was not supposed to have seen nor think of. Yet here she was.

                Run. That was her first thought. Run to him, ignore the others, touch that beautiful body that only she was supposed to have the right to. It suddenly enraged her men could work so exposed-how many other women saw him? Wanted him? Or was it just her-her and her incurable immoral mind. Shame colored her face, that the only thing which took her from her thoughts was the sudden call of her name.

                “Imelda!” Héctor this time, waving, also concerned. Run-remained in her mind-and suddenly she was. Further, and further from him down the path into town before she could make a greater fool out of herself. Before she could shame herself more in front of him, until finally she reached town and nearly collapsed in the plaza from the heat and exertion. Sinking down upon a stone bench she panted harshly-reaching for her canteen with shuddering fingers as she downed the water desperately.

                Well if anything had destroyed her desire, it was certainly running into town like a mad woman-while the few unlucky souls who continued to work in this heat meekly peddled their goods to the seldom pedestrian. As if in mocking the church bell struck noon and she sank back in her seat, clearing the sweat from her face with the poncho.

                One week. One week she would have holy matrimony in that church. She would kneel before the altar, put her hand in his, and they would become bonded for all of life and beyond. Mamá was right. Why should she be so reckless when something was so close. And beyond all she would have ever imagined she found a man she loved, she wanted to be around. Something no one would have _ever_ expected. Yes for Héctor she could wait…she could silence the fireworks of emotions that constantly went off in her, and be demure for a week. It would make their union all the more special.

               

                Héctor slammed the door to his house, ignoring the fact it rattled the lose nail he’d been meaning to fix. If the day couldn’t get any worse, now he’d been scolded by his future Mother-in-Law, laughed at by friends, somehow caused his fiancé to flee at the sight of him, and then was subsequently mocked again about how little his said fiancé wanted to wed him. ‘You should have kept your shirt on,” Rogelio had laughed and he only felt his stomach sink lower at the possibility he’d failed her so much today she didn’t even want to speak to him. It could be a number of things-each one like another ring of a spring coiling more painfully tight within him.

                Sulking and brooding wasn’t his style though-, he’d normally write a song about it or a poem-or at least talk to Ernesto. But in this heat he had no motivation to make it to his friend’s home, and nor did he feel any inspiration to compose art about something so shameful.

                The devil seemed to visit with the heat for the moment he sat down, the image of Imelda drenched from the well clouded his thoughts again. The temptation lingered-then shouted wild ideas in his ear; run back to her home and wait for her-take her in his arms on the way back. Kiss her and show her how much he could be strong and fearless for her-how he needed her-how…he sighed. There wasn’t anything in his heart that motivated him to be violent or forceful-she was so precious to him. If she feared for her soul-or it was in any real danger he could put out a wildfire for her with only a pail.

                Self-pleasure drifted to his mind, releasing the tension of her beautiful image-the breathy plea she had given him this morning. Idly he ran a hand over his belt-then yanked it away with a fist. It felt hypocritical to engage in such fantasies if they were putting Imelda in a place of shame or sin. If he’d insisted on a week for them both-he would abstain as well.

                Dragging himself to his feet he knew sitting in the sweaty house would do no good, resigned himself to finish his own housekeeping in the backyard. He would be a married man in a week-to a woman he loved more than life. What was there to be down about?

               

                Church bells again, and the melody felt nearly mocking this time. After an hour on her feet in the sun Imelda wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed and think of nothing. Despite her momentary conviction on the bench an hour ago-she now felt an intense spite-for everyone and everything that conspired her to wear this stupid poncho which had sweat staining her entire body. Damn her Mamá and her ridged principles-and the church for putting the ideas in her head-and every single person who bothered to remark how she looked so hot and precious bundled up-the exact opposite of a serene bride.

                She had no desire to go home to hear the second part of her Mamá’s lecture, nor did she feel she had the stamina to go any further in the poncho. How had the day gone so wrong-just this morning she was blissfully alone with Héctor and now…damn, now he probably was offended, or at least annoyed why she had run from him. In all fairness he deserved an apology on that account as much as she loathed the concept of admitting she was wrong to anybody. But if this man was to be her husband…well marriage was built on compromises-and seeing him at his home would at least give them some time alone (and chance to take off the stupid poncho).

                Imelda felt aggravation for how cautious she had to be walking the path to his home, Lord forbid a gossiper went to her Mamá about the stray bride unchaperoned visiting her fiancé. Once sure she hadn’t been followed and using the poncho’s hood, Imelda tapped on Héctor’s door softly. Nothing. She frowned, perhaps he was napping from working in the fields. Then again she wasn’t looking to alert the rest of the neighborhood and knock loud enough. Reaching up to a lose brick around his door frame she pulled out the hidden key and let herself inside with a soft call.

                “Héctor?” She could hear a sound from the backyard, so he had to be home. Quickly she disregarded the sweltering poncho hanging it on one of the hooks by his door and set down her heavy basket from the market. “Héctor?” She called a little louder. Still nothing. With a soft tsk, and sure of her privacy she wiped her sweat coated face with her sleeve and proceeded to stroll through the home searching for the man. A low thumping alerted her to his presence, and slowly she walked out the open wooden door that led to his enclosed backyard. The sight momentary stunned her.

                Like in the field, his shirt was absent, his back to her and the muscles all highlighted in gleaming sweat. He was at the chopping block, seemingly working out some kind of issue from how low and gutturally he grunted with each swing he brought down the axe. No he wasn’t built like Ernesto who could chop a log in two with one swing-it took him several, and she felt gracious for each swing it took as she observed the tension coil up his arms and back with all the power and force he put into each action. The sweat ran down in ripples across his back, down to the line of his leather belt, where it wandered underneath into the depths her fingers began to tremble to join.

                Unaware of her presence he tossed the halved log to the woodpile against the side of the house, flinging it with a sort of careless aggression she rarely saw from him. Scooping his black hair back he wiped his face clean of sweat-he was flushed and panting, a sight she had grown to love in their curious exploration of one another. Grumbling something under his breath, he reached for his water pitcher for a drink, and mid-tilt noticed her standing in the doorway. The gritty illusion gave way to bashful young man as he choked on his water spilling it down his front.

                “Imel-Imelda!” His eyes were wide, he looked at her like she was a ghost. It dawned on her she must look similar to him-red faced, sweating, short of breath from her poncho covered trip in the blazing sun. Already she felt her brown-black hair loose from its braided coil around atop her head, with tendrils and flyaways sticking to her sweaty face and neck, and now exposed shoulders in the plain canvas top again. Something clicked, or broke, or awoke in her as she watched the water drizzle across his neck, down his chest, and into the small cracks between his bones and the belt.

                He waited anxiously for an answer. Throat drier than it had felt all day, chest tensing harder than it did with the axe. Had she come to chastise him-was she hurt? Normally she wouldn’t let herself in unless she had a reason, until suddenly-she was coming to him-she was running. Before he could ask another question he understood her intention, and dropping the axe, opened his arms welcoming her to collide against him as both panted harshly, beginning to trail hands on the other.

                “I didn’t mean to run from you-I felt out of control,” The words spilled so quickly out of Imelda she didn’t have time for her pride to get the way. On the contrary her hands were more obsessed with sliding across the smooth surface of his lathered chest-feeling how hot and wet his skin was to the touch, as each breath made the outline of his pectorals clear.

                “You’re trembling-you’re so flushed,” Héctor managed collecting his own breath, his hand felt outside of his control as it traced her red face, carefully thumbing the swollen mark, feeling her turn her cheek into his palm with a hum. Every touch more gratifying than the water. “Your face…”

                “That-…that estupido poncho Mamá made me wear for modesty…it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt right now.” Without thinking she kissed his palm, and began to nip at his fingers between breaths.

                “I don’t want you to faint…” Héctor struggled between his own gasps-his eyes fixated on the erotic display her mouth created.

                “You look on the verge too…working this hard in the sun-what were you thinking?!”

                “I-…I was afraid I seemed weak to you.” He muttered, eyes darting down in humiliation. It was so honest and forward it made it easy enough for her to shake her head and run her shuddering hands down his front, hearing him hiss softly as they traced his faint abdominal muscles.

                “No, I felt like a puta, I saw you there-I saw you there and I-,”

                “I wanted you,” He groaned, the words tumbling free from a vice grip, and reclined his forehead to her own as each tried to collect their furious breaths. Without thinking much, he poured the reminder of the pitcher atop her, the water drenching his bangs and making her sharply gasp with partial relief. “I wanted you the moment I saw you by the well, soaked like this. You aren’t a puta-you weren’t alone-I was too cowardly to say it.” Tossing the pitcher aside he stared at her soaked front and much like her’s-his hands began to caress down her front-and more forward than usual took hold of her outlined breasts in each hand giving a harsh squeeze leading her to arch against his body.

                “You’re not a coward-you have…much more…control….of your emotions than I do…” Imelda panted between words, the water dripping down her face to her front, as her brown eyes flicked between his torso and starving eyes. “You’re finally touching me,” She moaned stepping closer to him, wanting to feel the heat radiating off of him.

                “I-I can’t help it,” He gasped, his eyes pleading with her-for mercy, for allowance, for forgiveness, for something, “I, tell me to stop-,”. But her answer was the opposite, bringing one of her hands around his jawbone to smash her lips against his with a needy whimper. Héctor wove an arm around her waist and groaned harshly-pushing her mouth open with his tongue as they both exhaled hard into one another.

                Keeping contact with his mouth, letting out breathy whines for each other, Imelda slid her palm down his stomach-across his steadily jumping abdominals and down beneath his belt to let her fingers desperately press through the sweat drenched curls of pubic hair. Their kiss broke suddenly as he inhaled sharply-his hips automatically trying to rise toward her straining fingers-restrained in place by his belt.

                “Aren’t we practically married already?” Imelda whispered into his mouth-the edge to the words a near plea. “We practiced fidelity-we swore fidelity-you said I’m the love of your life-what does it matter if it’s before an ambivalent Dios or not-,”

                “You **_are_** the love of my life,” Héctor hummed kissing atop-then biting her lower lip for emphasis on the word. The tension in the act sent a shudder down her neck and shoulders, as her hazy eyes locked onto his own.

                “You swear-you swear on the cross-on your soul-on mine-swear-,” Her fingers were impatiently trying to crawl deeper through the tight barrier his belt created.

                “Si-si-si-you-know-you know I have,”

                “Say it!” Imelda bit back in a frantic whisper, her teeth against his tongue, her other fingers curling into a possessive fist in the short coiled hair across his chest. The desperation and impatience in her eyes was like a fever.

                “I swear on the holy cross of our Lord, I swear on my soul, your soul, my grave, you’re the love of my life-I’ll be faithful to you-only you-stand by your side- through this life and death,” Héctor managed-his hands palming up to cup her face-to pledge it into her eyes with feverish whispers. “You too-say it-…say it Imelda.”

                “I swear on the holy cross of our Lord, I-swear-on-my-soul, I swear on your soul, my grave, the stars-the moon-anything-your poetic heart wants-you’re my husband…I-…I’m yours-I’m your wife-I’ll be faithful to you through this life and death and stand by your side.” The moment she finished speaking he crushed his mouth against her own truly stealing the breath from her lungs. His nose pressed into her cheek, and wet bangs smeared and tangled into her own hair. Their wet chests were taunt together, her aching breasts smothered across her chest by his bony ribcage. She nearly toppled backward, save he kept her secure in his hold as they stumbled for each other’s closeness.

                They landed against the pile of logs he’d stacked, resting against the shaded side of his house. Imelda didn’t hesitate now, undoing the tie on her shirt, which allowed his groping hands to automatically slide it off her wet body. And doing what they’d longed for all day, his fingers aptly slid beneath her shift to pitch at her tantalizing nipples. With a cry of dismay their kiss broke so his mouth could leave a trail of suckling kisses down her breast lapping as firmly over the cotton fabric as he could.

                “Take it off-take it off-I don’t care just rip it-,” She whined urgently, and he obeyed tearing down the middle of the transparent thin fabric-making her shudder-spine colliding into the hard scratchy texture of the logs. The sound of the rip was one of the most erotic things either had ever experienced, and if he wasn’t hard already-Héctor felt his groin swell with excitement. The sight of her wet brown nipples was the prize he’d sought all day, and he eagerly lifted her to sit atop the pile of logs so he could devour her breast as much as his mouth would allow in a feral grunt.

                Imelda’s head rolled back-hitting the side of the house with a soft thud, her hair caught in the loose planks, tugging tresses free as his mouth worked from one breast to the next with savoring, hungry, hums. The pressure of his teeth were harsher than ever before. Tugging each bud forward brought out whimpering hisses from her already swollen and flushed lips. When his mouth finally slid off each nipple, they were left red and puckered like summer berries ready to fall off the vine.

                “I want to feel you in me,” Imelda demanded tugging his face up to her mouth, her tongue running across his teeth between words. “I want you buried in my body, I want to be filled-overflowing with you-,” each word seeming to come out with hotter breath than the last. Héctor trembled-automatically his hands went to his belt-then with iron will he stopped, forcing his gaze to straighten upon her for some logic.

                “I do too-I want to get lost in you, I want to feel you clench around me and hold me within…” Already his voice was lower, rasping, kissing her between phrases as though she were his air source to go on. “I don’t…I don’t have any prophylactics though. Do you have-,”

                “I don’t have anything-, it doesn’t matter…I want to feel you release in me. The wedding is in a week it doesn’t matter what happens now-,” Héctor halted her with a soft caress of her face, cupping her cheeks in both hands, each taking a few gulps of air they desperately needed. Gently, his thumb soothed the bruise her Mamá had left, and brushed away droplets of sweat which ran down her nose.

                 “My wife,” He whispered tenderly, and she would have been impatient were it not for the love in his eyes. Even in the most wanton of moments he found something so beautiful in this and perhaps that’s why it felt so safe-so right-and all her previous doubts were now nothing but kindle for the flame licking at her insides which needed this man.

                “Fill me, let me feel you release, show me your mine and I’m yours.” She rasped pulling at his belt with needy shuddering hands. All of her longed to crush the previous doubts which had risen in her this morning. A fury filled her, that they had made her find anything about this sweet man ugly-when the world itself was already filled with such ugliness. How dare they try to take away her joy with trappings of sin and propriety.

                “You’re shaking so hard,”

                “You’re shaking too, undress me I need you-I’m soaked for it.” Every word came out in sheer defiance of the Imelda who loathed to need anyone, who loathed to be submissive, but the man who could find the love in the air even when it was on fire-well he certainly seemed worthy of a little embarrassment.

                “Ay mierda-“ With a low, guttural curse he yanked the knot on her skirt free and clumsily tugged it down along her beautiful plump hips with her bloomers. For a moment they snagged on her boot, the pair were nearly distraught trying to get them off, until Imelda ripped the fabric again-tossing it the dusty earth with uncharacteristic abandon. Inspecting, Héctor’s palm immediately went for the crevice between her thighs, pressing apart the black layer of curls to feel her open leaking sex, which nearly exhaled heat against his hand. “Fuck, you’re like an ocean…” The lust in his voice was such a deep octave she let out a little needy moan-and its resonation was a pulse across his palm.

                “I’m ready-I need you inside-I needed you inside all day!” Imelda hissed and her own fingers began to pull at his belt buckle, unfastening the clasp after several anxious tries.  Héctor finally helped her-and when his erection was freed, it nearly shot into view-so tall, hard, and relieved to be loose of the intense compression in his pants. “Por mi dios you’re ready for me too mm?” She cooed slathering lusty kisses on his neck in praise.

                “How could I not, when I saw you this morning,” He shimmied then kicked off his pants, nearly falling over as he struggled to get them over his shoes, but it was worth the relief to be bare on the scorching day. With a throbbing anticipation she watched him take his palm her sex had coated, and stroke the sticky cream across his cock as lubrication. With an apt thumb and index fingers he pulled back the foreskin exposing the bulbous maroon head covering it in a shimmering layer that only made it more delectable to the eye.

                Imelda slipped down one of her own small hands, and felt a jump in her stomach when it made contact with his cock. It was so warm-it felt warmer than the day itself, and throbbing with its anticipation so alive and raging for her. Despite the fact she could just close her fingers around him-her closed hand didn’t even cover half the length before her when he was at full stand like this. She hadn’t even realized licking her lips to the idea, until she heard him curse under his breath once more at the image.

                “Ay mi vida-fuck-look at you.” And eagerly he seized forth her rear, yanking her body to the edge of the logs. Kindly, his hands provided a barrier between the rough wood and the smooth skin on her normally protected cúlo. Then possessively, his fingers began to scrape at her round thick cheeks, groaning with a flutter of those long eyelashes Imelda adored to observe. “Muy guapa, mi pájaro, do you know how hard it is to not stare at you every time you walk ahead?” Without warning he palmed her cheeks apart, dragging her upward upon the pile with a little smirk, with legs splayed open for his leering view.

                Imelda was just as ready, hooking her hoisted legs over the crook of each his elbows. There was no shame, no hesitation in either of them only hunger and anticipation. Eagerly, she tugged his cock forward, walking him along that he was poised at her spread leaking entrance. Without teasing nor testing, he jerked his hips, sending his rounded thicker tip within-and it burst through with barely any resistance allowing half of his shaft to sink into her as each let out whimpering sounds of need. Héctor’s head collapsed against her forehead-his lips murmuring and kissing against it.

                “Dios mios- _Imelda-_ you’re so wet inside.” The ache in his voice was making her sex throb around him. It spread so nicely to accommodate him, sending pleasureful tickles up through her stomach to her heavy heated head.

                “Héctor-mierda-mierda,-“ She cursed reclining her head into the support his own had given her it was such a relief to feel him inside-to feel fuller, to feel him close and needing her as much as she did him. She was no longer alone in her desire. “I want all of you, I don’t want you to be careful-,” Imelda strung her free hand up into his hair with a tight tug. “I want to feel your cujones against my body-I want bruises on my thighs. Make me yours, mark your wife.”

                “Don’t let me hurt you,” He grunted slathering kisses across her hairline. “You have no idea how much I-I,…I’m so desperate Imelda.”

                “Show me,” With those words she lifted her fingers from his cock and seized his hip pulling him into her with a sharp wince. Easily he pressed in, sliding through her moist pathway-falling into her depths from the inertia until she saw with satisfaction his entire length was hidden from view within her shuddering body. It ached-in such a good way. He was pressing against something inside her that almost hurt- _almost_ -if it hadn’t set her nerves on such fire that she felt she would scream if he didn’t begin thrusting and hit it again. “Ooh-move-move por-favor-move!”

                “It doesn’t-hurt-does-it?” Héctor groaned but his hips had already begun of their own accord, rolling out of her, testing to the tip-to swiftly ram back up within to the base as both let out startled moans. They’d passionately laid together yes, but they had never set out to push limits like this with such fervor. There was a slight fear in each of their eyes; the idea of hurting the other-scaring the other-both eclipsed by their intense desires. Imelda whined and swirled her arms around his neck with a whimper to assuage his.

                “It’s too wonderful to-,oh-oh fuck!” Her head rolled back in pleasure, as her words gave permission for reckless abandon on his part. Instantly, his body was filling her potently-long, swift thrusts sending his hip bones colliding against her cushioning thighs with a soft smack. Within his cock buried and stirred at her insides that the reverberations ran up into her stomach as her entire body began to shudder. It was already straining-but it was entirely worth the rush of pleasure it brought every time the full of his length hit that spot so far within her, letting her feel him in a way she couldn’t even feel herself alone. He helped her discover new depths-new pleasures-this was marriage, a partner, teaching her new ways to love herself. A breathless laugh came out between her moans between his thrusts while her short nails dug into his shoulder blades pressing his gasping mouth to her neck. “Bite my neck,”

                “Here mi amor? Ah-you want a kiss,” He exhaled across her throat in a low voice which curled her toes. Instead his mouth ran lower, bowing his spine, to the top of her breast nipping his crooked teeth in a long suckling kiss that left her skin red and wanting. The bent angle let his rhythm slip for just a moment that his cock missed reentering-and instantly she let out an impatient groan tugging on his hair.  “Mm put me back-!,” He pleaded just as desperately into her ear, and within an instant (and a satisfied smirk he was finally past all hesitation) she did. It drew out a longer whine as her fingers curled deeper into his back-surely leaving marks as he began to pick the pace. Lifting her behind, his own nails buried into her supple flesh, rising her body to meet each of his thrusts in a hard collision.

Imelda let out a low shrieking laugh of pleasure at the first thrust. A similar noise left him as his mouth returned to her forehead to breathe properly-each nearly ecstatic at the vicious satisfying pleasure they could finally experience. The sound began to rise of his body beating into her-the delicious tight smack of his heavy testicles against her cheeks-his hands continuing to spread her as he strained to lose himself as far as possible in her wanting body. The angle of her uplifted legs made it possible-her entire frame bouncing back with each slam of his weight against her, compressing her spread knees nearly into her chest.

“ _This_ is what-wanted-Héctor-Héctor-mm you’re joyous-k-keep doing that!” Her voice broke into staccato gasps between his increasingly swift, hard, smacks into her body. The log pile rocked beneath them, adding another thrill of their intensity-save for the fact his long hands kept her securely in place-and the force of their bodies rocked the pile into the wall each time it threatened to fall over. Soon she could manage nothing but high pitched winces, and turned her head into his neck-vaguely aware he was saying something against her forehead as the world began to turn to muddled haze. Muffling her screams she bit his neck momentarily, for he nudged her off with a demand to hear her sounds. “H-holy fuck! Héctor!” Her head rocked into his shoulder as tears of pleasure began at the corner of her eyes.

“I wanted you like this-so-so fucking-long-,” Rough, hissing out between vigorous thrusts of his body doubling the sweat on both of them, “you’re so strong-you’re so incredible-mm your coño is perfect-, I can’t believe it’s so perfect all the way-fuck _sing_ Imelda-make those noises-they’re so damn- _divine_.” It was a command as he paused his own thrusting to instead yank her forward onto his cock, increasing the pressure and angle of their frantic pounding. In that moment she was truly gone-lost at where he began she ended-numb to everything except how hot her core radiated all the way up to her chest and the swirling violent sensations her body could not ignore. Building tight pleasure, starting deeper in her than usual, it was so tight so focused, as though the sun had concentrated to a single ray on spot of her body. Something was going to burst.

Something did burst-white hot shudders flooding her senses that she went ridged unable to think, unable to move-only to let out a single swift cry, tears blotting her vision-then a frantic frozen gasp as current rushed through her limbs connecting her to this man-she couldn’t hear nor see him anymore-but she felt him-she knew his comforting presence and couldn’t be afraid in this bodyless moment when he had her gripped so tightly, and he was so far in her, he belonged to her body more than his. Then she returned to it, slowly-shaking harder than she’d ever before in their actions that she realized he’d stopped moving, and had an arm around her back to keep her from hitting her head.

“Imelda?” Soft, more cautious, still panting low and rasping.

“Si-…si…Héctor…si…” A hazy smile was on her face, her voice was slurring a little sing-song, as it felt like she had just been floating in the ocean for hours and now suddenly she had to readjust to regular gravity and use her body after it was rocked to its core. As feeling returned to her limbs, it dawned on her just how wet she felt between her legs-and liquid still seemed to be running forth from her body. “I…” She wiggled to get a better look, wondering just how much she had lost control of her senses that perhaps there had been a more humiliating accident. “Did…oh no”

“What is it?” Slowly he slipped her off the log pile-supporting her in his arm that she didn’t collapse on her quivering newborn legs, but using his free hand to cup her quickly darkening expression.

“I didn’t-what happened…”

“You were spending-I think?” He murmured thumbing away the few tears that had gathered during her pleasure. “It’s all right…I’m here…” He drew her into his own heaving chest, with a fear he had frightened her from the intensity.

“I-…um…I’m so wet…I might-I think I-,” How did she even find the words-her pleasure was transforming into embarrassment as she searched for a way to explain the situation. Contrary to her fears, as he looked at her darkly red face-a smile crept on his flushed and sweaty visage.

“You say that like it’s a problem.”  
“There was a lot coming forth I-um gushing-,”

“Oh you’ve never-?”

“Wait-what?” Imelda paused giving him an inquisitive and startled look as the coy Héctor teasing look appeared that drove her up the wall.

“Oh Imelda,” He scooped a hand between her legs making her gasp out nervously.

“Héctor!”

“You know women can release a lot of liquid like men don’t you?” The curve on his eyebrows illustrated he knew for a fact she _didn’t_ know, but remained smug none the less. “Dios…you’re soaked…” His palm trailed up her wet inner thighs to her dripping patch of pubic hair, pushing his fingers through to savor the squelching sounds from the abundant liquid, that dripped down his hand into the grass beneath them.

“Y-you should of told me-you-you-oh-oh…” A hypersensitive shudder left her body-it was like every nerve was standing on end and he’d barely touched her. Worries aside, the heat flared up in her once again like he had turned up the switch on an oil lamp.

“Was it good?” That playful tone. It traveled down to her ear hissing softly, while he bit at the lobe.

“Si…mucho…mucho grande, I want you back in me…get on your back, you damn coyote.” Without warning, she returned the favor seizing his half hard cock which was dripping with her own juices, as she gave him a tight little stroke to raise up to full height once more.

“I was afraid I’d-mierda-I’d frightened you.” He practically groaned, rocking into her palm with a few needy arches. “Your face was so bonita when you spent-I wish I could draw it-,” His free hand drew her bare body against his own, they stood in only their shoes safely hidden away in his backyard from the town. The ravenous hand seized her behind, molding the buxom curve in his palm with a low groan in her ear. Imelda turned her head seizing him by the goatee for a biting, chastising kiss.

“I want to _ride_ you get **down.** ” It came out as a near growl upon his mouth, and she felt his cock twitch eagerly to her words. Stealing one more long kiss-their tongues brushing before she could bite him-he slipped back and pulled her down her knees with him upon the dusty earth in the shade. He angled himself to rest his head in the patch of grass as he looked up at her sweat coated body, the sun catching her curves with beautiful highlights as he gave a smirk at how swollen and taut her nipples remained.

“Ravaged is a good look on you.” Imelda looked down, and couldn’t resist the smallest smirk to his taunting. Ravaged is what she wanted from him all month-hearing him finally give into it was delightful.

“I need much more of you before it can be that,” She straddled his thin frame, letting her thighs spread open over his hips while she continued to stroke his erection as it began to throb in her hand once more-furious for the release it was interrupted from.

“The same way?” Lust was darkening his eyes again as he reclined upon his forearms to watch her work. When he gazed this intently she swore there were flickers of scarlet amidst the sea of dark brown.

“ _Don’t hold back.”_ The braid atop her head was hanging down her back now-strands of hair flying free over her flushed body. She was mesmerizing, he didn’t know where to stare-he only knew how much he was throbbing to be inside of her again-now that his fears were aside. Unable to wait, and obeying her instructions, he took hold of her hips assisting her with alignment, then eagerly dragged her down to sit upon him. Instantly, a shudder ran down his earth pressed spine-she was so smooth and wet from that orgasm, he had her seated on his testicles in a single stroke. And the sweet moan she let out only made him throb more intensely within her-dios he would be lucky if he lasted a minute.

“Imelda,” He tried to warn, his voice coming out in a throaty moan, but she was already beginning to return the intense treatment he’d given her. Pleasure seared up his cock, straight into his stomach as her hips began to roll up him-the tight suction dragging and pulling him in the most divine way. Even better-the wet succulent sound when those glorious hips came down on him, she was adding a little swivel, and he relished how _his_ actions had left her in such ecstasy. “F-Fuck! Keep doing that!”

Watching her rock on his body only intensified the sensations-she moved so quickly (why should he expect less from as furious a dancer as herself), her breasts jumping, the curves on her body shuddering, that beautiful reddened face looked down at him between gasps and moans as her hands swept back her own hair from her sweat coated face. Without warning, she brought a hand to his hair tugging him up further on his forearms as they scraped across the dirt. The other lay on his stomach for anchorage as those divine hips began grinding him-holding him deep inside to the hilt but shimmying around his cock in every direction that a strangled choke of air left as an amalgamation of her name.

“I like-adore-feeling-you-so-so deep in me-f- _uck_ “ Imelda practically wept, her fist pulling on his hair but he hardly felt it in comparison to the suffocating, tight, heat she had him drowning in. At times it strained his erection too far at an angle-but the melting heat, the friction was so good he would rather faint than ask her to adjust. His own hips began to arch in response, jolting her in his lap as she kept up her grinding with a startled laugh of ecstasy. What a nymph. What a goddess. So strong and eager for this kind of roughness.

“Imelda por favor-por favor- _that- **si-“**_ Pleasure was clouding his senses, he barely understood her anymore, another little twist of her hips and, “Mierda!- _Imeld-a-a-a_ ,”. His nails were digging into her rear-holding her flush to his pelvis as his body convulsed in drunk vicious arches into her. In the back of his mind he could hear her delighted little moans-hear their bodies clap together-but it felt like it was happening outside of him, as his entire world became absorbed in being a part of her-emptying all he could within her, until the last drop and he sank into the earth gasping-hands weakly holding her thighs for the sheer comfort of knowing she would not go.

“…It’s warm…” Nails softly running through his chest hair-pulling apart where it was matted by sweat, and forcing his gaze open he saw her with a halo of light-the sun shining on her brown-black hair that truly made her look like his goddess. It was warm-he felt like all of him would happily drown in it-and it was then it dawned on him he had spent in her-completely, for the first time. Blinking awake widely he looked at their conjoined hips, trickles of the white liquid leaked-but still…she had trusted him, and it sent a shiver of excitement through his body again.

“You’re warm.” His voice coming out like a drunken sailor as he gave a little tug on her hips-casually arching as he struggled to collect his breath. “Lo siento, I couldn’t last-you were incredible…”

“My legs are still shaking…I don’t want to let you go.” A tiny grin was on her lips as she rocked softly into his arches. Dios, it had been so long since he’d had any sort of climax, over a month ago, it had left him feeling torn in two and has he looked at her, as she rocked, somehow he was fighting the exhaustion for more. _More;_ leave his mark in her, show the world she was his, more, resounded in his mind with sort of possessive thoughts that could normally scare him. “Can you rise for me?” Those words sent his senses over the edge and ruined any fears. Her hips began to grind on him harder, and already he felt the sensitivity, the blood rushing and his body struggling for comfort.

“Ay mi vida look at you.” He managed a throaty rasp and lifted his hands to her swollen breasts, smirking with delight as her back jerked in response to the lightest touch on her nipples. “You’re quivering like a kitten.” A prideful possessive piece of him admired the darkening red marks of the biting kisses he had left her.

“You are too…” There was a beautiful smile on her face at those words and his head rolled back in a gasp as her hips gathered a rougher pace. The muscles in his pelvis were already straining-sore, but when he looked at her, that body bouncing for him, he felt himself growing hard once more. “Mm…I feel you growing _mi amor_ , or is that imagination?” sweet teasing in her voice, her mouth open in a happy little pant. How could any man not be harder at the sight? The lines of her long hair running out of the braid down her back, those pointed bruised nipples, the sweet modest breasts swayed with her every move, the hypnotizing undulation of her stomach and torso as she rolled, making her soft stomach contort in like she were dancing, which only lead his eyes to the wet triangle of black curls on her-mixing with his own pubic hair. The layer of sweat and rosy red over all over her-how could even a priest resist such?

“Jésus, Maria, y Juan, Imelda,” Héctor stammered, there wasn’t much of a choice, his hands slipped from her hips and buried into the dirt around him. All he could think of was her growing heat-how a moment ago he’d had her sweet body contorted against the woodpile-taking him as she shrieked with pleasure into his ear. The animalistic need was awakening again, it had never left her gaze and contagiously filled his own.

“I want you to explore my body…” Imelda reclined to his ear-whispering like a siren, seducing him with an enchanted voice. “Mark me inside so even when others try to keep us apart I’ll feel you…” Her nails trailed up his shuddering chest, pausing at his nipples with soft scratches. “I’m not the only sensitive one now am I?” Another little tilt of her hips, it was so minute-but it was everything to make him throb for her once more.

In a single motion, he shot up, scooping her into his lap and hugging her body to his chest.  In the next instant Imelda was the one pressed to the earth-his long body looming over her, his weight trapping her against the sparse cooling grass and soft dried dusty dirt. The moment of shock in her eyes was instantly replaced with thrill-pleasure pooling in her eyes as their bodies remained conjoined. Easily he lifted her hips with a palm, holding her up like a good dance partner, tightly against his pelvis. The other hand caught her jawline, tilting her gaze up to meet their equally feral gazes.

“Is this what you want?” And he let his weight drive a heavy thrust into her-hissing at the sounds of the wet compression of their releases mixed together within her, and the smack of flesh-his thighs hitting into her own spread ones. A sharp gasp was knocked out of her body from the force, sending her deeper into the earth. Imelda managed a faint nod as the smile crept back on her face again. “Say it, Say it Imelda,” His husky voice rushing to her ear as he bowed his spine for a kiss upon her rosy face.

“Si-I want this-I-WANT this-“ She half screamed at the sharp sensation he rocked into her suddenly. “Go as fast as you can, put all your weight into me, as deep as you can, make me feel you so I can never forget you-so nothing keeps us apart-” She cooed wrapping her arms around his shoulder blades. A tiny smirk met his face-he kissed her mouth briefly-mischief tugging again-then straightened up. Much like on the logs he suddenly yanked her thighs forward, spreading them wide-and lifting them back. Imelda complied eagerly, letting out a groan as he sank further within her at their new angle-then weaving her calves around his back, while her knees bent over his elbows.

A single thrust had her nearly in tears again-he hit into her body with all his weight bearing him into her, pressing her to the grass, leaving her body no where to escape from the wonderful waves of pleasure and pressure. Obeying, he began relentless, loud, thrusts into her. It should have been embarrassing, how wet her body was that it make a sloshing sounds each time he dove into her swollen sex, the fleshy sounds of his hips and cujones smacking her thighs and rear as though she were being spanked. Instead, each only increased the carnal ferocity, the sheer freedom of their ancient and instinctual act. Despite how he trapped her body to the earth-shoving the breath from her lungs each time his weight pinned her downward, somehow all of her felt more unrestrained than ever before. Free to scream in his embrace-to run her nails down his arms and admire the red lines they left, free to contort her face in various hysterical notes of laughter to tears and he swallowed every one with ridiculous excitement.

“You’re so-fucking-incredible,” Héctor gasped-his voice seemed to nearly growl the words he was so lost in the aggression and rhythm her body asked as he dug his nails into her rear, savoring as her wetness drizzled downward upon them.

“So-so are you-! Si this way-keep going-Héctor!” Imelda managed, sliding her hand across his sweating back to dig nails into his scalp again. “Kiss me,” She demanded between the staccato breaths he was forcing her body into. Once more he bowed his back reclining for a sloppy kiss as their tongues weakly brushed between frantic squeals and grunts. For a second he paused his hips-holding her own flush against him that his cock remained within to the hilt. They each panted at the depth and savored a momentary closeness. Héctor mischievously nipped at her lips until she opened her eyes that they looked into one another’s perspiring, flushed faces.

“Te amo,” He exhaled, sighing his head to her forehead-face caught somewhere between strain and ecstasy.

“Te amo,” it was like a soft prayer-gratitude, that slowly transformed to a playful smile as her fingers trailed down his shuddering body seeing him jerk to the softest touch on his neck. Then he began to pound once more into her defenseless body.  Imelda let out a soft scream-which turned into a repeated chorus as his cock found that sensitive space in her depths once again. Héctor struggled to slow-adjusting his grip on her hip with concern.

“Is-this-too-much?” Now he too was struggling to get air between harsh little exhales.

“NO! Don’t stop! Don’t!” The squeal was accompanied by her fingers trailing downward to yank his cúlo flush into her-encouraging his hard pace again. Relieved, he threw all caution to the wind. The yard was filled with the frantic sounds of their bodies and screams-her thighs became red and swollen from the force of his weight against them, and she could feel the sensitivity rising inside as his cock slammed into the same spot-softening and bruising the flesh where she could only scream out, weave her arms back into his hair and ride the incredible force that ruled her body now. She was spread open to be claimed, unable to resist or soften any of his blows, her stomach curling as her legs pressed back, her calves shaking with each brutal thrust into her exposed body.

 It was like they’d stepped out of time and space, and she couldn’t even recall her own name but in that moment she knew him-and knew wanted him to break her in half if it meant this sensation of their warping bodies would never end.

The peak of pleasure snuck up her so violently it sent her back off her the ground in a harsh cry which dropped her head to the patch of grass and loosened the rest of her braid into flying strands of shimmering bronze in the sunlight. Everything ripped her like she was going to fall off a horse-her stomach dropping to her toes-then up to her throat, as all sound was lost to nothing but helpless high pitched whimpers. There was a sensation of spilling free all tension-all worries rushing out of her body in a geyser, that intense spend again-but she didn’t let it frighten her this time, and instead rode out the freeing pleasure with a long sensual moan as her cheek twisted into the cool grass. Vaguely above her she heard Héctor’s voice-it felt like it was coming from inside her, it was so warm and making her vibrate happily.

“Soak me…si Imelda…si…perfecta…”  Whatever he was happy about she didn’t know-it just made the sappy, dazed, grin on her face even wider he was happy too. Girlish little laughs left her as ripples of pleasure made her body press into the ground-everything was so perfect and good right now-even the savage pounding her body was receiving making her body quiver wildly. A wincing sound came from him too-the hand on her behind was slipping-and shaking. Still lost on her cloud she rose her eyes up to his strained face a let out a cooing mewl, stroking her wet palms over his whisker shadowed jaw.

“I want it…make me warm deep in my stomach…”

“F-fuck…” Was all he could stammer, the pressure on his face looked almost painful as he let it go with a sudden groan-giving a final round of rough arches into her gelatin body. The hot-then warm-liquid feeling returned, something pouring into her with a delicious soothing heat where her body had just been so viciously pounded. Then he too collapsed upon her, face in her hair, his shoulder against her mouth which she bit softly into-a playful still wild look in her eye. Héctor made a low hum at the sensation-but continued to only pant against her searching for the strength to move.

How long did it take, the pair laying bare, as their cloud of shade began to vanish with the moving sun that finally Héctor stirred, rolling off her sweaty body to recline at her side, since neither could stand the full force of the sun’s heat. He didn’t dare let his hands leave her body, smoothing a palm down her gasping back. The orgasmic bliss couldn’t even be dampened by the sun’s heat as Imelda stared at his equally drained but delighted face. Each blinked between staring at the other, and struggling to not fall asleep like a pair of sun warmed cats on the window sill.

“We should…get water…” Imelda murmured, finally feeling thirst tug at her hoarse voice from all her screams.

“We could just lay here and wait until it rains…” Héctor slurred in a low, sleepy tone. At her tsk the smallest tired smirk curved his face. “I love staring at you in the nude…”

“Then get me water,” Imelda chuckled stretching her arms, so unconcerned about the dirt down her body. A soft laugh came from him too, as he caught her reaching fingers and kissed them with a soft bite.

“I’m tireedddd…”

“I want wateeeer.” She made the decision to finally try and rise to her feet-immediately flopping to her knees with a tipsy laugh from how quivering he had left her legs. Héctor instantly rose to his knees-not about to let her smack into the ground even if she found it hilarious at the moment. “What did you _do_ to me!” Imelda giggled reclining into his chest.

“Ravished you, uno, dos, tres,” Upon his count he hoisted her and himself to their feet-the pair wobbling like they stood on ice, but finding it equally hilarious.

“It doesn’t hurt…” She chimed as he wrapped an arm around her waist and they walked hip to hip to the well.

“It will tomorrow pájaro.” And pressed his lips to the top her head. “Maybe I should slide some ice in you-,” Came his conniving sing-song.

“No!” She laugh-shrieked the best she could with her strained voice and pushed his chest. For the second time today they reclined against a well, and Imelda assisted him in lowering the rope insisting nothing was ‘sore’. Once they had a full bucket they took turns pouring it over the other (at least Héctor did since she could not reach above his head to dump it, and instead threw it at him with snickers) then together taking long drinks that assisted their flushed faces. When each were finally quenched and cleansed of dirt stains they retreated to the shade once more, curling into the rocking chair Héctor had saved that reclined against the house. Soaking wet it wasn’t too warm to finally cuddle, Imelda sideways in his lap as he sat back rocking lazily. Each were finally gaining some sense and language from their highs and muttered casual conversation.

“I felt like such a cabron for thinking of you like that…” Héctor managed, his pointed chin resting on top of her damp scalp as they let the breeze rock their chair.

“Hm why?” Imelda murmured somewhere between sleep, high, and satisfied contentment.

“Well…that’s not often how you hear of lovers laying together…”

“Pah, what do I care what’s typical.”

“I know you don’t.” He chuckled twirling his fingers idly in her lose hair as she snuggled upon his chest hair. “You weren’t scared at all?”

“No. Were you? I scratched you harder than I meant.”

“So did I-no…I enjoyed it at the time.” He muttered smirking into her hair and chuckling at the red lines across his upper arms. “Your poor cúlo,”He hummed stroking her rear where his nails had left soft crescent shaped intents and faint scratches.

“Well you can rub aloe on it when its sore.”

“Oh happily-and won’t you on my poor pito which you surely bent in half?” He said in a playful pleading whine, nuzzling into her ear.

“If you ask nicely…” She hummed twisting her head for a soft kiss.

“Por favor Imeldita, mi diosa, perfecta esposa?” A little mocking sing-song but she kissed him again.

                “Si esposo…” They stared tenderly at one another, smiling, content, then sharing another languid kiss. “It feels nice knowing you left something of you inside me.” And she couldn’t help but smirk as red colored his face.

                “I-…I like knowing that too…you’re really bound to me, unafraid to conceive…” He trailed off shyly, and a low laugh left her.

                “Unlikely…I just finished my monthly cycle-but I wouldn’t mind…” Her fingers twirled into his own and he squeezed tightly-a tender warmth filling his tired eyes as he scooped her hand to his mouth

                “Either way…it’s fun not having to worry about contraception.”

“Pity you didn’t listen to me sooner you were being so prude.”

                “Si-si you were _right.”_ He groaned rolling his eyes. “I’m not even annoyed you were so right…” He muttered dipping his head to her neck with a long kiss. They remained this way, rocking, joking, kissing, and drifting into little spells of sleep until the sun began to darken the sky and the temperature finally started to cool. Enough clarity had returned to Imelda she thought to gather her discarded clothing, and with his aid they wiped off as much of the dirt stains as possible then retreated into the house helping one another dress as muscles began to ache. However every strained twist or pull only brought forth a red hot memory that made their eyes meet with matching blushes.

                When she gathered her shopping basket and put on the stupid poncho once more-she smiled with a relief a week form now she would never have to leave his side again-this would be _her_ home. The poncho thankfully covered the bites on her breast and neck which were darkening to a deep purplish hue. And thankfully on the hot day she hadn’t worn her best bloomers or shift which were now ripped against her and hanging loosely. Mamá would surely lock her away if she saw the scene-but there was no reason she would.

                “Adios…” Héctor bent to kiss her once more at the door. “One week.”

                “Buenos Noches,” Imelda paused then to ensure boundaries had been broken, and set a hand on his thigh. “Take care of yourself for me…I still expect a proper wedding night.”

                “I should say the same to you.” He smirked giving her another gentle kiss. “Expectant cocks may be running lose.” This time, she laughed openly at his joke, and with a final denial of his wish to walk her home (Mamá would be too suspicious) she left him for the evening.

                The walk home hurt a little, her legs no longer felt so wobbly but they certainly were not the same legs set had set out on that morning. Strangely enough even little ache brought a gleeful hum to her, and when her brothers made a comment on her limp (it seemed they’d finally mastered the cow because they had moved on to butter churning) she calmly told the tale of slipping on a lose stone into the fields.

                Gloriana was in a much more patient mood when Imelda returned with her full market basket-though she did remark about the especially long trip.

                “I felt faint, and took refuge in the shade until sundown. I didn’t want the fruit to go rotten in the sun either.” Imelda began unloading her basket into the pantry. The sight of the faint bruise on her cheek did leave her guilty, and she resigned to be more gentle to her daughter.

                “You didn’t faint did you?”

                “No, no Mamá, I merely had a trip. Water and rest soothed me.”

                “You seem in better spirits, it’s good to see.”

                “Do I? I must have needed the rest. The heat makes everything wild.”

                “You should take a bath….your fall left your hair wild.” Even with the tone of suspicion Gloriana couldn’t help but note it didn’t appear Imelda had tried to rid herself of the poncho which was what she had expected. Still-even as she eyed her daughter-the smile on her face, the flush on her cheeks, she forced herself to contend it was nothing but the joy of a blushing bride’s approaching wedding.

                “Si Mamá,” Imelda complied so demurely she bit back a question for the girl’s joy. Well, what was the harm if she had run into her fiancé in the market. That Héctor at least was a proper boy-respectful enough. Even if the savage heat of the day made her daughter behave like an animal she would put her trust that the boy knew better.

                A quieter voice in her doubted even that, and reminded her at least the wedding was only a week away and therefore no harm could be done if they... Of course not-her prim voice returned; Joséfina’s boy would never. Besides on a day so warm, with all the children doing chores, only the truly desperate would engage in such an exhausting task.

**Author's Note:**

> Rough Sex Day for an Imector 30 Day Smutty Challenge-more to come! :) 
> 
> Hey if my work makes me smile check out my tumblr and consider supporting/commissioning me? http://senoraluna.tumblr.com/


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